Unwanted memories
by SkarS
Summary: how much can one girl take? from something she never expected, she built a web around herself...what is her way out?


I remember every touch, I remember every taste, every moment, though, and I can't remember exactly when I fell in love with him. All I know is that I do, and all the complications that surrounded us didn't seem to matter for me, but for some reason I couldn't seem to get, it mattered to him.

It didn't matter that it was wrong; age difference was the last thing on my mind. I had no conscience. We had fun it's all I cared about at the time. He was like my chocolate, was always there, every taste comforted me from my life's worries. Passion was everything, made my escape. I hated my life, and I know it was because of me that I got into situations, and all I wanted, all I needed was him…right?

I stared blankly at my phone, waiting for it to pick up signal to finally start ringing, when the phone indicated so, I put it to my ear, waiting impatiently, excited, for the man to answer. "Pick up pick up pick up."

"Hello?" came the tired and weary voice, I smiled, the usual.

"How are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer, which came as "I'm alive."

"Where are you?" I asked a little too quickly, I sensed his smile on the other line, tired and worn, but still, a smile. "In south…where are _you_?"

"Go to your office." And I hung up. What was I doing? Why was I doing it? Was 2 years a long time?....Maybe. For one so tired but yet so intrigued by timeless games, perhaps.

I took the long trek to his office, o so long down the busy street, passing people, feeling their suspicious eyes on me, every one of my movements I tried to control. School girl? Convent no less, what was she doing, where was she going, questions which ran through my mind, wondering if that was what other people were thinking…. I know I know, I over thought things. For that I am sorry. So sorry.

Walked the long walk along the side of the parking lot of that mall, so nervous, excited I don't know. I just wanted something, I didn't know what, but I wanted it bad.

I walked up the stairs, nervous, I never sweat, ask anyone, I never do, why does he makes me sweat? Sigh. I smiled as I rounded the corner. The burglar proofing was open, he was in his office. I smelt the familiar scent, breathed in as much as I could, I felt calm, and I was ready to talk. Knocked on the door, it creaked open, a smile hidden behind his mystery as he stood out of my way and invited me in. I turned to watch as he locked the door again, and then looked around tentatively, before he brushed past me and went into a small side room. An old air condition sat on a desk, a chair in front of it, a desk next to that, and another chair opposite that, the faint sound of a radio somewhere in the corner caught my ear.

He sat in the chair behind the desk, and then looked at me, his eyes telling me to take a seat, which I didn't until I heard his voice command me to. He got up, passed his legs close to mine, then sat directly in front the AC and looked at me, before closing his eyes. Boring right?

I didn't think so. I studied him, watched him drift into sleep, waited for his brown eyes to open again, then caught me staring then to ask me, what was the matter. All of this, felt so damn natural, I wish that maybe, maybe I was older, but only for a second.

Time passed fast when he was awake. Him trying to help me, talking about his friend he thought deserved a chance with me. I laughed. I didn't want to, I was beginning to enjoy my freedom. I loved having his attention, and his friend's, and this new guy I was … considering hooking up with. But then what would happen? would I loose his attention?

I smiled as he lay back slightly against the back of the chair, trying to ignore the want I was seeing in his eyes, probably, you can say, even trying to ignore it, maybe it was disbelief, or just for the fun of it, denial. He slowly licked his bottom lip, I laughed internally, allowing a small smile to pass across my face.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, knowing exactly what his answer was going to be. It was this game we played. Heh. O how I love this game. When we spoke in the depths of the night, when everyone but us was asleep, and he used to say in a throaty whisper, what his needs and wants were, and when I would tease him with my low voice, giving him sip after sip until he was addicted, and then, to let myself spill over for him.

It was never intended to be anything more than….friends…. Mmmm…just friends. We liked to talk to each other. Each night, calling him on the phone saying " he broke up with me." Or "we fought."

All he would do is chuckle and ask , "What can I do for you today?"

And then it started. This is us. This is me, exposed, alive, alone in the world with one man, who may have, at one point, made me feel whole, fit me so perfectly, that all my problems were none existent. Another sappy story, you would probably think.

I watched again, as his lips were moistened by the potentially dangerous tongue which I wanted to taste so badly. I laughed openly this time.

"What are you doing?" again I asked, his answer the first time lost in his eyes which had me, somewhat entertained.

"Provoking you." Was the simple answer that followed, and from that in quick succession, his face moved closer to mine, and I breathed in his scent, before I felt his erotically soft lips meet mine. We paused, didn't move, I remember every breath he took, the room dead silent, all but us, the shared air.

He moved his mouth, pressing into mine with some encouragement, and I opened myself, forgot the expected surprise and stood with him when his body rose off his chair, my breasts pressing against his solid chest. I laughed, that stupid lilac shirt, he always wore a business shirt, and tie, and dress pants, always so formal. I liked that.

And there we were. The only two people in the world, melded together, our hands lost, our mouths aching, our thighs weak. We would never have an answer, but there is always a question. Do you want more?

I stared at my phone. He laughed and put a frown on his face, feigning anger. He couldn't be actually angry at me. "Would you please just put the phone down? Do you have somewhere to be? Stop watching your damn phone." So I set my phone on his desk.

Then I look at him sadly, and asked him if I ever showed him my scars. He said no, so I slowly slide my grey school skirt up my thigh, only enough to reveal close to 100 scars along the length of both my thighs. He smiled, "Not any higher?" I laughed. Then he got serious and said to me, "Don't you ever do that again…" from then on I vowed never to put a blade to my skin again.

Then his lips were on mine again….

O gosh. The breath from my lungs was disappearing so fast, my mind was so flustered I almost fell against him, feeling pathetic, after telling him so many nights one after the other of how I am in bed. He held me up, I let him. I vaguely remembered him taking a seat, I forgot where we were, the scanty look of the room, the broken look of everything he owned. I was broken, I wanted to be the only thing fixed in the room.

How can one finger light a flame so intense it hurt? I never knew that he had so much power over me, I never knew that a man could actually command me. One finger? Unbelievable. I let myself get aroused. I let my self literally melt, but where? Where was his hand? Would you believe that it was on my thigh, on the outside of my thigh, and not moving, just lingering there, touching my scars so softly, that had me confused as to why, and what I wanted was melted into the feelings which poured from his lips. Does that make any sense? It didn't to me…but, it's what kept me doing what I was doing.

Kissing him, and moving with him, he stood again, brushing the whole length of his upper body onto my small upper body. He was so huge compared to me, so powerful, and yet I knew there was a sick man behind it all, dying, o how I wish he wouldn't die.

Then, my stupid phone rang. I panicked.

"What's the time?!" he laughed and pulled me toward him as I held my phone to my smeared glasses which blocked my eyes. He sat promptly down in the chair in front of the air conditioning, pulling my thigh against his while my dad was on the phone with me, telling me he was waiting outside my school for me. I panicked again.

And then, I was calm, I laughed, trying not to be heard by my father, as I looked down to this man's brown eyes below my clothed breasts, and I knew where his hand was, still rubbing that one place on my thigh, then, just as I knew I was about to catch aflame, I felt his finger move the one sheet of cloth from between my legs, and enter. It took everything out of me to carry a normal conversation with my ffather, telling him that I would be right there, just give me five minutes. The phone call ended. I let myself shudder and gasp, I saw the enjoyment in his eyes, amazing as it was, his finger, was just still inside me, and had not moved one bit.

A finger caught me afire, how?...all I wanted was more, but it was an uncomfortable walk back to my school.

You want to know what's been going through my head? All I knew was, I was proud, or something like it, I was satisfied, I craved something I thought I would never want, something so forbidden, I cried inside, whenever I thought of it, it was all I could do to stay alive. It took all my strength to carry myself back to school, keep a straight face for my father, who surprisingly did not question me, and carried me home.

It was the end of me…I knew it. I could see myself twisted inside from all this, I can feel it, and taste the vile blood which would overtake all that he claimed from me. And so it was, it followed, that was a Tuesday in September, and only two days after I saw him again, both of us with so much built up, it was amazing that it was only for the period of 2 days.

As I rounded the corner up the stairs, I noticed the burglar proofing was closed. With that I called as I walked outside his office and waited, while the phone rang on, I tensely waited, I wouldn't like to be caught. Just then I saw him walking up to me along the long corridor, a weary smile across his face. He was dressed in his usual business clothes, I smiled internally.

I waited, stepping aside as he opened the door, then he stepped aside to let me in, ushering in like a make believe gentleman. I dropped my heavy bags onto the floor, and waited for him to lock the door then go into his office. I followed, and we both sat, we both expected something, I didn't know what.

We had no names, we had no purpose, we did not exist. Right?? So many reassurances I wanted and needed, why couldn't he give it to me…no pun intended.

I can't quite remember where we both sat, where we were. Everything was so muddled in the beginning. I remember him kissing me, I remember his hands somewhere, I remember fire again, I remember _him_. I wanted that. He took my hand into his and then rested it on his crotch, I didn't know what he felt, but to me it looked unbearable to feel, and to have, set it free? I laughed at myself. I permitted my hand to run over him, and rub. He giggled to me, like a little boy having fun with a toy newly discovered, and said slowly, "That's not helping my situation."

I was so disarrayed by then, I didn't care, I grinned up at him, he was so tall, so sturdy. I could sink into him, melt myself away. I remember reminding myself not to have sex with him, trying to pound it into my head not to let it happen, and I let it come to me that I didn't think that we would go that far. He was a virgin, and he required a lot of trust. Without a condom? Complete and utter union. Before I knew it, my hand was wrapped around him, just barely.

He laughed, I remember him uttering a simple "I just want to fuck you." With a throaty laugh following. I almost complied, but instead, I teased, and rubbed so feverishly , our flesh meeting too intimately to be really forgotten that he would've succumbed to me if he didn't stop me. He sat down, exhausted from doing hardly anything, the little phrases he said to me still ringing through my head , "_You're so good at this…", "o fuck." _ So much simple words.

My skirt fell to my knees, I was aware that my pants and underwear though, were on the ground next to us, and his pants at his ankles. He sidled both his legs between mines, and forced my legs open and my face was in his neck, I felt him brushing everywhere tender, his arms steadying our awkward perch.

He made me look at him then, steadied me with one arm, his other hand was wrapped around something which slid against the moisture between my legs. "Stop me if I am going too far." He commanded me. I shook my head "I won't." , I was not sure if the emotion I felt was fear, excitement or anxiety. I was aware of every touch, I knew where he was about to enter, and I knew I didn't have to guide him, even though inexperienced, he knew me, my body.

And then I felt him enter me, and I sank completely unto his lap, and I felt sad, so profoundly sad. I did not know why, I was so confused, and I heard his moans against my throat, and I knew what we were doing was wrong. As I balanced on top of him, I said those words… "This is wrong."

With that, came what answered why I felt so profoundly sad, because it was reflected in his eyes, the exact same sadness. "I know…" but we didn't stop, we kept still, he instructed me not to move, that he just wanted to feel me. We kissed and caressed, and sucked in each other's scents and swallowed so much amounts of each other, there was nothing of us separate left from each other.

And at the end of it…his and my words echoed through my mind, "This is wrong." " I know."

So…I had an amazing weekend you can say, where I finally met someone genuinely sweet, the Saturday after the Thursday that everything transpired. Now this guy, I can potentially see myself falling in love with, he was sweet and I thought even if I am not ready for a such a long term relationship, I can probably, just give him a chance, he deserved it.

But it was on my conscience. What did I do? What happened? That same night, I called (let's call him No. 1 for now, being the first one mentioned in the story), so I called No. 1 and this was to reassure myself that what happened was real and that we both shared the same emotions and that we wanted more….but I was unsure what to do about the newfound sweetheart. Do you understand my dilemma? I got myself into it I know that.

"Hello?" came the usual steady weary voice I grew to know how to smile at.

"Hi…" I said talking in a low voice, "How are you?"

"Alive." I gave an exasperated sigh.

"I know that, but how ARE you?"

Now he sighed. I smiled. I loved his breath.

"What are we?" I asked, surprised at my own question, a frown forming on my forehead ad he hesitated.

"Nothing." My eyes watered, again a frown formed on my forehead…. Why was I feeling so desperately exhausted and sad?

"What do you mean nothing? It doesn't matter what we did?..." I felt that one tear slide down to my chin, before I knew it, I tasted salt, and I touched my face and looked at wonder as though I never saw tears before, and I wished it were blood, so that I would have to feel pain somewhere physically to distract the pain that slowly extended from my chest to every bit of my body.

"I don't know what you're talking about…." I heard no sadness from him, heard no emotion, nothing. He was cold. I cleared my throat and said calmly, tears still polluting my face, anguish still contorting it beyond repair

"O…well ok, I'm going, goodnight."

"That's it? I get nothing tonight?" I was disgusted with his words. Get what? He just dismissed the fact that we had anything and here he was wanting phone sex at night?.... I couldn't bear.

An before I could count the seconds that passed between my disbelief, I dropped the phone.

That night, in my head, I kept revisiting my memories of what had happened, and I found that I kept forgetting little details, and I panicked. I wanted to remember it all. But what good was it going to do me? Meaning… if this is what he thought of me, and this is what it would end up being, why other keep a memory? So, I concentrated on this new boy that I hung out with, and tried to smile when I talk to him on the phone. He doesn't yet know when something is wrong with me, that something is bothering me, I keep it hidden behind a "tired" voice.

Sunday came, went. Monday

Tuesday…and it was here that I decided I would test myself to see if I can be faithful to a man who deserved it. I was going to fight to be faithful. Professor(new guy) deserved it. So I told professor I was going to see my friend and he was asking me why I was going alone. I respond by saying he was an old friend and nothing would happen. I had my mind set on that.

Again the now too familiar setting of that corridor, I waited infront of his locked door which he opened, and allowed me in.

"What do you want?" he asked, the usual weary note in his voice.

"I just want to talk." Was MY weary reply.

"About?"

"I don't know…."

"Look at me." I shook my head in response. "Look at me."

I raise my head, forcing my eyes not to tear looking at the wall, I couldn't bear to look at him. I looked down again at his legs, it was as close I as I was going to get to looking at him. I held my breath when I saw his hand reach for my chin and raise my head to level my eyes with his.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

O fuck. How I wish I could answer those questions. Two so very important questions. I was there for him, I knew that, instead I said, "To prove to myself that I can be faithful. You being a very big temptation."

Now what I wanted, I had to think. Him, no question, but to be faithful, no question either. Therefore, in my mind, I came up with the solution, I would not provoke him. Whatever happened would happen for a reason. To fuck up my mind for the next few months, well that escaped my comprehension; I didn't think that far ahead.

He looked at me, not showing any emotion at all.

"I'm going to make you break that promise." I felt my pores open, and I got hot everywhere. Flustered, I ignored him. Then he moved closer to me, and I kept my distance. My lips were dry, I licked them, and he laughed a little.

"I know you want to." He said, "You keep licking your lips…you do that when you want it bad."

I scowled.

"If this is what you're going to do, then I'm leaving." I move to the door to exit, and he calls me back, persuades me to take my seat. He pulls the chairs to be opposite each other, and I prop my legs next to his chair, keeping my skirt length past my knees, so he wouldn't get any ideas. In my head, I think, o damn, what have you gotten yourself into? So I smile, a girlish smile, trying desperately to not put on any 'seductive' suggestions.

He gets me to talk about professor, where we are in our relationship, how I like him, if he's a nice guy. Again, in my mind I kept repeating after every question to myself, "He's not you."

We fell silent, we looked at each other, and that precise moment my skirt shifted higher up my thigh, and I made as if to move it back, but his eyes instructed me to leave it alone. The pants I had on underneath it were exposed, and it being so loose, so were my white underwear. Without taking his eyes of mine, I was aware of every movement of his hand moving over my thigh, the length of my leg, and then finally meeting the mound of flesh, already moistening to cotton shield it was wrapped in.

He bit his lip, a soft moan escaping his mouth, I was slightly aware of the dance music he played from his laptop. "So wet already?" disbelief was apparent.

"I was thinking about what we would do whole day…can you expect any less?"

He laughed. Then pushed his fingers slightly more aggressively against my clit through my clothes. My eyes fluttered, I was struggling from losing my control. I had half a mind to tell him to stop, then just as quickly as the thought came it went. Still our eyes locked onto each others, I felt his finger slip into me again, and my eyes fluttered until I let then shut. I can't remember what I said, but I know it made him bury himself deeper, hurting me, yet, I wanted to be hurt.

I felt him push my propped up legs gently to the floor, and he stood, helping me up, my shirt raised where his hand was entering, and he moved to another chair. Surprisingly, my pants were still on. I had to laugh at that, but I was disappointed. He sat me down on his laps, and he was between my legs again. I felt him push into me, pieces of cloth separating us. Again, I couldn't help but think about how painful it must have been for him. It strained so tightly. I took it in my hand and rubbed, he held me steady by my hip and waist, and we looked at each other, for how little I did not know, for how long? Same answer. I arched my back as his lips came to meet mine, and ground onto him, knowing that I would stain his black dress pants if he had removed my clothing.

I felt his breath against my neck, and felt his lips meet it, kiss it, taste it, and I let my hands grip the back of his neck tightly, at first afraid of hurting him, then found myself wanting to hurt him. Our breaths came in gasps, our breathing flowed, I was vaguely aware that the playlist on the laptop had stopped playing, and he continued without realizing. I enjoyed his attention.

He was in the process of revealing himself to me, when I asked him if he had a condom. I don't know what possessed me to ask, but I think it was respect for him, I remember him and a previous girl. He laughed and I climbed off him and sat in the other chair, my legs parted like a boys would be, my skirt twisted in wrong ways, revealing my legs.

I watched as he searched his cupboards, talking to me as he did so, and when he found it he laughed, and exclaimed on its expiry date. So he came before me, knelt between my legs, and I let him, I didn't change my position. Professor was on my mind, but, I didn't know what to do anymore, I wasn't strong enough to resist.

I felt him prod me, I felt his smoothness rub against his relief that was mine. I tired not to laugh as I saw how he tried to pry his way into me while trying to move my underwear out of the way, before finally he stood, and commanded me to take them off. The pants fell. I didn't stop it. He sat back again into the seat, and came between my legs yet again. I felt naked to him, so exposed. I was giving myself to him yet again, breaking my promise to myself, and proving him right. He had control over me , and he knew it now. Before I could object, he was inside of me, feeling every bit of electricity move though me, watching the pleasure cross his face, knowing in some way, that I had conquered him as much as he had me.

. And when my phone rang, and I rushed to reassemble my clothes, I remembered professor, saw all his text messages, and I forced back tears. I realized what I had done. I couldn't look at this guy again. I can't remember seeing his face after that. I remember though, that he was so strong, he pulled me back onto his lap, then flipped me in his arms to where it looked like when the man carries his wife in his arms to her bedroom. I scratched at him, and fought to get release from his arms before i let my eyes tear up and left him standing by his door looking as though he lost his new toy. I remember exactly how much times he called after me.

I knew he did.

Now it follows that the week after Thursday I return to him, despite what he did to me, what I let myself do. I remember arguing with him on the phone, saying that he had no right to tell me it never happened, because I had the memory too. Why did he see it fit to erase it? Why was what we were doing so wrong. So many questions I forgot to ask him, I thought to myself I should have a list on paper. We didn't have sex that day. But I let him have me nevertheless. And so it went for the week following that, and then one more, before we ended.

I focused myself on the professor. I tried with everything I had to make myself love him. And I did. I grew to love him. But…he was more the brother type guy friend that I was screwing, and here I was in a predicament that left me so utterly confused I almost died inside. I would meet professor after school sometimes, and our meeting place so happened to have No.1 there…. Professor would never have my attention on those days, I wonder if it was the same for 1. I forced myself to try to forget him.

Delete of social networking online, delete of messenger, delete delete. No numbers, no calls, nothing. I wanted out. I had done wrong. I wanted a clean slate. Didn't work. He was on my mind, every time professor touched me, I tasted him, every time professor said he loved me, I wished it was him.

I don't know how I stayed in one piece. Until, I decided I needed to confront him about it. It gave me new hope, saying in my mind that I will corner him and ask him questions in person where I know I could tell when he lies to me.

I did. From there he promised he would call me, but branching from all those times alone with him where we promised anything like this wont happen, the promises were broken and I chose to believe he would break this one. Bu the did call, only to not be answered because I was fast asleep. He still called the following day. He answered all my questions. He left me whole. He left me feeling clean.

Prior to this, I was feeling used, dirty, nasty, something like a condom you may say. I hated it. Sex alone with no feeling was something that screwed me over, especially since I wanted it to be more, of course realizing only after it happened that I wanted it to mean more. I wanted him to understand and to tell me why he hooked me up with professor and left me hanging like that.

His answer hurt so much, I didn't know what to think.

"you would be happier in the long run with him than with me. He can give you what u want and what I can't give you."

"What if he cannot give me what you did, wouldn't that make me unhappy still."

"True."

And now, I'm whole, happy, but after figuring this all out, I realize that I can't be with professor anymore, he's boring me, and I want out. I want someone else back. I have unfinished business, and I don't particularly care if he thinks otherwise. He owes me himself.

* * *

i made this as a memory of a fling i once had...i thought that and i have been told that it was good story, and also that bella and carlisle being the older man and edward being the professor would be a good fit. please don't be offended.


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